


Still Alive

by AlumbianChronicler



Series: Still Alive [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Lash survives, Shipping, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlumbianChronicler/pseuds/AlumbianChronicler
Summary: After the events in the Raith Deeps at the end of White Night, Harry believed Lash to have been completely destroyed.  As he discovers a few weeks later, however, this isn't quite the case...





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate timeline where Lash survives her sacrifice in the Deeps. There is a disappointingly low number of Harry/Lash fanfiction, and so I will be attempting to rectify that. This piece has been previously posted on Tumblr, under shadowxwithachoice, which is my blog.

It was a rare night of silence.  I had been busy for the past few weeks with a string of minor cases.  Minor being a relative term, of course. I was still banged up and bruised from a few of the less pleasant cases, but at least I hadn’t tracked any mold demons into my apartment.

I was planning on having a quiet night in, reading an old paperback with Mouse at my feet and Mister on the back of the couch above me.

That was the plan, anyway.

When I awoke, the fire had burned low.  My legs had fallen asleep under Mouse’s weight, but he seemed comfortable, so I didn’t move right away.  I didn’t want to just yet, anyway. I had awoken suddenly, a dream just fading from my mind, though the emotions it had brought up lingered.  I closed my eyes, laying still as I carefully pulled the dream back.

I was in a cave.  It was too dark to see, but I knew it was a cave.  Crystals lined the walls, though they were not glowing as they once had.  I had dreamed of this place once before. Lash had first spoken to me here.

Lash was the Shadow of a Fallen angel, Lasciel, imprinted upon my mind several years ago.  Her purpose had been to convince me to pick up Lasciel’s coin, plying me with power and promises.  The Fallen’s plan had fallen through, though, when Lash sacrificed herself to save me. It was still something I occasionally thought about.  At the end, Lash had been an independent entity; separate from her progenitor. She had betrayed her purpose to help me, and had been destroyed in the process.  I owed her my life.

In the dream, I walked forward, stepping carefully toward the hot-tub I expected would be there, but never found it.  Instead, a sensation of warm water had flowed over me, followed by a soft touch on my shoulder and a quiet laugh near my ear.  I had woken then, lingering feelings poignant in the near-darkness.

I extricated myself from underneath my mountain of a dog and headed to the bathroom.  So much for reading for awhile. I had to admit, though, I needed the rest. The past few weeks, while not strictly life-threatening, had been tiring.  I kept getting headaches, and it was difficult to work when your head felt near to exploding.

Splashing some (very cold) water on my face, I ran a hand over the significant amount of stubble on my chin.  I should probably shave that. Running my hand up through my hair, I ruefully decided that I needed a haircut as well.

I didn’t have any mirrors in my apartment, too many things can use mirrors as portals, so a flash of movement from the corner of my eye caught me off guard.  I turned, and saw nothing. Peeking out into the main room, I saw Mister curled where I had been laying two minutes ago, Mouse still taking up half the couch.

A bit uneasy, I decided to take a quick shower, and then properly head to bed.  I expected the water to be cold when I stepped in, as always. Magic doesn’t play well with technology, and so my apartment had no electricity, which meant no lightbulbs that could burn out or explode, and no water heater that could… well, explode.  

I was surprised, however, to step into an apparently deliciously hot stream of water.  The sensation lasted only a moment before fading back to frigid cold, but it was more than enough to get my attention.

I stopped, standing in the now-cold stream of water, reaching out my senses both around me and within.   _ Lash? _  I thought.

No reply.

Of course there wasn’t.  There hadn’t been for months.  Bob had confirmed that she was gone, the regions of my mind that had been damaged from that night in the Deeps were the regions in which she had resided.

She had sacrificed herself for me.

No, I was just tired and thrown off by a nostalgic dream.

I finished my shower quickly, shivering a bit as I got out.  Toweling off quickly, I slipped on some pyjama pants and headed back out into the main room.  I made sure the fire was tended to, pet Mister and Mouse good night, and went to bed.

I was dreaming again.  I couldn’t not be, my asshole of a subconscious was standing in front of me.  He looked the same as ever, much like a well-dressed comic-book villain stepped out of the printed page.  He’s not actually a bad guy. He was  _ me _ , after all, and no worse than I am on my own, but he represents my more basal instincts, the lizard brain.  He was concerned with survival.

“Survival and procreation,” he corrected me, smiling slightly.

“Oh shut up.  What do you want?”

He raised a brow.  “Do you ever realize how dense you are?”

“I may have been told a time or two.  Good thing I’m charming,” I replied.

Id-me shook his head.  “I’m not here to trade banter with you.  I wanted to tell you something, and you’ve been ignoring the clues so far.  Is she just going to have to walk out here and kiss you before you get the hint?”

I blinked.  “She? She who?”

My Id-self threw up his hands.  “Ugh, just come out here, he’s not going to get it.”

“It took _  you _  awhile to realize I remained,” a new voice came from nearby darkness.  “Don’t be too hard on him, it’s not the conscious mind’s role to be as observant of such signs.”

I turned to look toward the voice, incredulous.  It couldn’t be… She was dead, gone… destroyed…

Lash stepped out of the shadows, approaching me.  She wasn’t wearing the nearly-sheer white tunic I remembered, instead having donned a plain tunic of soft lavender fabric.  She didn’t look as serene as she had when she had first spoken to me, either. Instead, she looked more as she had the very last time I had seen her.  Stressed, disheveled, and pale. She looked like she was just overcoming some debilitating illness.

She walked up to me, placed her hands on either side of my head, and planted a short, soft kiss on my lips.  “I am sorry it took me so long to let you know I lived, Harry,” she said quietly, stepping back.

I stared at her, stunned.  Lash? Alive? Well… alive as a mental imprint could be.   _ Existent. _   She was still here.

“You…” I swallowed, trying to find my voice.  “You’re really here?”

She nodded, and I noted she was swaying a bit on her feet.  My Id-self moved to her side, supporting her.

“Lash was nearly destroyed that night,” he (I) said.  “She’s been slowly recovering since then.”

Lash smiled slightly.  “I was going to wait a bit longer, gather my strength, but you wanted to know I was here.”

“I wanted…” I frowned, then glanced toward my Id-self.  Ahh. So he put her up to this? Well, I couldn’t say I was disappointed.

“Are you alright?” I asked her.

“I was nearly destroyed in the act of protecting your mind from damage,” she replied.  “It has taken this long to reach a state where I can speak with you in this manner. It will be longer yet before I am able to speak to you while waking, or to project my image to you.”

That made sense.  There had been significant damage to parts of my mind after that battle, according to Bob.  None of it had affected me consciously, though. Lash had directed it all to herself.

“The headaches?” I asked.

Lash glanced away, almost looking sheepish.  It was an endearing expression, less guarded or rehearsed than her usual collected self.  “The regions of your being that I had previously taken root in had been damaged and needed to repair themselves before I could return to them.  I had to infiltrate other regions, which caused some disturbance in your energy.”

Oh.  Well.  If she needed space to exist.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  I rounded on my Id-self, who was still supporting Lash.

“She didn’t make herself known until a week ago,” he informed me coolly, “and if you recall, we’ve been busy.”

Right.  I ran a hand through my hair.  “This is a lot to take in, even in a dream.  I mean…” I took a breath, turning my gaze to Lash.  “I’m glad you’re alive,” I said.

She smiled, a genuine, warm smile that erased some of the sickly exhaustion that had come over her demeanor.  “Thank you, Harry. We will speak thoroughly soon, I hope.”

I nodded.  “You still need to tell me about my mom and that Starborn thing.”

“As soon as I am able, Harry.”

The dream faded out.


	2. Mirrored

I don’t trust easily.  Especially when the person to be trusted once tried to convince me to walk my way down the Highway to Hell.  But Lash… she sacrificed herself for me. I thought she had died, and I… really didn’t know how to deal with the fact that she was still around.  I had just barely gotten used to the idea of her being gone.

She didn’t show herself again for nearly a week.  After a few days, I started thinking that perhaps she wasn’t actually there, and the dream had simply been a cruel prank of my subconscious.

Of course, he was a jerk, but I didn’t think he was  _ that _ much of a jerk.  He  _ was _ invested in my own best interests, after all.  And Lash probably needed more time to gather her energy.  No doubt appearing to me had taken quite a lot of what she did have.

I didn’t have many jobs that week, just a few small things.  Find a kid’s lost pet, find someone’s wedding ring, routine stuff.  It let me catch up on a little sleep, but I felt almost disappointed each time I slept and she didn’t come back.

“What do you think of it?” I asked Bob, mulling absently over a new potion recipe.

“About what?” he asked.

“Lash,” I replied, jotting down  _ fresh grass clippings _ in preference over  _ dandelion fluff _ .

“I think it sounds highly improbable,” he replied.  “No, don’t use that, use lemonade.”

I paused halfway through writing  _ Coca-Cola _ , frowned at Bob, then shrugged and jotted down the liquid base as  _ lemonade _ instead.  “I’ll agree to the improbability,” I said.  “Do you know of anything like this happening?”

“A Fallen’s Shadow deciding to sacrifice herself then pulling herself back from the brink of destruction just so she can help you out again?” he asked.  “No.”

I scowled.  “Don’t be like that, Bob.  I  _ meant _ a spirit sustaining that much damage and coming back from it.”

If he had shoulders, I was pretty sure he would have shrugged.  “There’s not much precedent, but I will allow that it is  _ possible _ .  If she left a seed of herself, a back-up copy, she could have tied enough of herself to that to allow her to heal.”  He snorted, quite a feat for someone with no nose. “With as much damage as there was to your mind that night, I’m surprised she was able to manage it.  Your head looked like swiss cheese.”

“Thanks, that’s  _ so _ reassuring.”  I jotted down the last ingredient ( _ robin song) _ and set aside the pen.  I had been planning on trying out the recipe that night, but my mind was elsewhere now.  “So it  _ is  _ possible.”

“It’s also possible, and more likely, that you were just overly tired and had a strange dream,” Bob countered.  “Don’t get your hopes up, Boss. She’s more likely than not gone, no matter how vivid your dream was, and even if she is still around, she is likely only a fractured piece of herself.  A sliver of a sliver.”

I sighed, closing the book.  “Right.”

“Hey, Boss, if she  _ is _ around, think you could get a picture of her to me?  I’d like to see her in person.”

I shot Bob a look.  “Not going to happen, Bob.”

“Can’t hurt to try.  I bet she has the body of an angel.”

Storing the book on its proper shelf, I shook my head.  “Good night.”

As I was heading back up out of the sub-basement, Bob spoke from behind me.  “Hey Boss, if she is there, give her an easier way to talk to you. It probably takes a lot of energy to manipulate your stubborn mind enough to manifest.  Give her something to talk through.”

I paused, then nodded and continued upstairs.  “Thanks, Bob.”

Mouse padded over to me as I ascended the stairs, tail wagging a bit.  I ruffled his fur and followed him to the little kitchen area, filling his bowl before rummaging around to find something for me to eat.

An hour later I was sitting on my couch, Mouse laying on my feet asleep, thinking up some way to put Bob’s suggestion to use.   _ Find something she can talk through _ .  A doll of some sort was the obvious choice for a Spirit conduit, but I didn’t think that would work here.  She was, as far as I knew, confined to the space within my own head, and even if she wasn’t, leaving would likely take up as much energy as manipulating my senses to appear to me.  So… it would have to be something that would make it easier for her to appear to me through my own mind.

Sleeping was an obvious method, but she hadn’t appeared in my dreams lately, so maybe something else would work.  Something… that would warp my perceptions, make it easier to fool my sight, something to reflect…

A mirror.  I didn’t, on principle, have mirrors out in my apartment.  Too many things could use them as portals, enabling them to look in or even cross over.  Which was, now that I thought about it, precisely what I wanted.

I did have a small mirror I used occasionally for spells, and once I extricated my feet from underneath my dog, I went to retrieve it.

I sat on my bed, just enough candles lit to see by, with a hand-held mirror in my hand.  It was one of those that you see in story-books, with the oval surface and handle to hold onto, except mine was made of cheap, bright green plastic.

Taking a few breaths to center myself, I closed my eyes, clearing my mind of any extraneous clutter.  Once I was satisfied with my mental state, I opened my eyes again, gazing into the mirror. For several moments I saw nothing, then, in the space of a blink, she was behind me.

I angled the mirror slightly so I could view her better, and lost the image.  This was going to be harder than I thought, and was, honestly, a little unsettling.  My interactions with Lash previously had been effortless, and usually not even at my own bidding.  She had simply wanted to be there, and there she was, to all of my perceptions real and present. Now, it seemed she could barely make her presence known.

But I  _ had _ seen her.  So, if something else wasn’t simply messing with me for some reason, that dream had not been something I had made up.

_ I am here _ .

The whisper was quiet enough that I nearly missed it.  I couldn’t tell whether I had actually heard it, or if it had been simply spoken in my mind.  It really didn’t matter, though. I had heard it.

Setting aside the mirror, I again closed my eyes, listening to the silence of the room.  After several minutes, I again heard Lash speak.

_ I used up much of my energy the other night, but I am here, Harry. _

_ “Lash,”  _ I thought toward her,  _ “I…” _  I didn’t know what to say.  I was a little surprised at how relieved and happy I was to hear her voice.

“ _ Can I help you?” _ I asked.

There was silence for a long moment.

_ Yes, I think you can. _


	3. Affirmation

Thomas didn’t ask me why I asked him to take me to a nightclub.  He wanted to, I could tell, but he didn’t, and for that, I was eternally grateful.  Or, at least, grateful up to when he pulled us up to his chosen location.

_ “I sure hope this helps you out, _ ” I thought, directing my words to the back of my mind where a faint presence could be detected if I really tried.

I received only a very faint sense of amusement, but hey, it was more than I had been able to pick up a week ago.

After a week of extra walks for Mouse, finding obscure, rather pretentious, and yet tasty restaurants, and watching the sun set over the lake, I was finally seeing progress.  And now… to try something a little different.

This definitely wasn’t my first, or even second or third, go-to for my idea of a fun evening, but Bob had suggested it as a potential way to… boost my efforts concerning Lash.

There was a line.  Thomas walked past the line, and I followed.  He was dressed in tight (I wasn’t entirely sure how he had managed to get them on) white pants and a similarly-tight white t-shirt, both of which served to outline and emphasize his impressive physique.  I, on the other hand, was wearing my leather duster, blue jeans, and a short-sleeved shirt. To my credit, the jeans were clean and nearly new, and the shirt was un-wrinkled and also nearly new, and didn’t even have any nerdy logos or phrases on it.  Still, I was a little overshadowed.

My brother said something to the bouncer at the door, who gave me a rather long look before nodding and stepping aside to let us in.  I followed Thomas into the building, a little unsure as to what exactly what I would find.  
It wasn’t my first time in a nightclub.  Of course, the last time it had been a Raith-owned, super-exclusive joint, and the night… hadn’t ended well.  Not that I had been there in the expectation of a good night. It had been for a job. For a porn-film director.  Don’t ask.

This place wasn’t like that.  It was, first of all, quieter.  Sure, it was still loud, but I could actually hear myself think.  The music was more for augmentation than obliteration, for listening to rather than losing oneself within.  The overall atmosphere was also a lot calmer, and there was much less evidence of overt… acts out in the main area.

“What do you think?” Thomas asked, grinning back at me.

“I think it’s a trap,” I replied, eyeing him.  “It’s awfully calm for a place I could see you going to.”

He continued to smile at me, ignoring the stares of various women, and more than a few men, we passed as he led the way over to an amply-stocked snack counter.  “It’s not a place I would usually go to,” he replied. “You wanted me to take you to somewhere you would enjoy.” He selected a piece of cheese and popped it in his mouth, still grinning as he turned to me.  Thomas swept a hand out, indicating the spread of the main room before us.

“All you see here,” he said, “I offer to you, o’ brother.  May you have a lively romp this evening.”

“Ha ha,” I replied, eyeing the area skeptically.  Out on the dancefloor, a good-sized crowd was dancing, but it wasn’t quite the feverish, drug-enhanced frenzy I had expected upon arriving.  “Seriously, Thomas, what is this place?”

“Not owned by the family,” he replied, snagging an oreo, twisting it apart and slowly licking off the cream inside.  He winked over at a young woman who was eyeing him and making no effort to hide her interest. She blushed and glanced away coyishly.  “So, it’s inferior, but I thought it would be more up your alley.”

“Right,” I replied.  “Thanks.”

His grin still hadn’t abated.  “Of course. Go have fun. Or… I can find someone for you, if you can’t manage it yourself.”

I looked between him and the young woman, who was now  _ batting her eyes _ at Thomas.  “Thomas…”

Thomas paused, glancing at me.  “I’ll be good, Harry, I promise.  Cross my heart. Seriously, though, you should let me find you someone.  It’ll do you good to unwind.”

“I can handle my own social interactions, Thomas.”

He sighed.  “That’s your trouble, Harry.  They aren’t supposed to be  _ social _ interactions here.”

The young woman was now approaching Thomas.  “Want to go dance?” she asked him, giving him a shy smile.

“I’ll be fine, Thomas,” I replied, “I don’t need your help to… uh… dance.”

He eyed me.  “Right.” Thomas shrugged, then turned to guide the young woman out to the dance floor.  Some wingman.

I watched him for a few moments, then turned to the snack bar, taking a tiny paper plate and piling it with cheese, crackers, and cookies.  If nothing else, I could avail myself of the free food.

No one bothered me as I awkwardly stood eating my way through my plate of snacks.  There was a pool table, and several people taking turns playing, but they didn’t pay me much mind.

Finishing the plate of food, I threw it away before looking cursorily over the dancers to try and spot Thomas.  I didn’t see him at the edges of the crowd, which was much larger now than it had been earlier. That was likely Thomas’ fault.

I didn’t feel like sticking around much longer.  I wasn’t entirely sure what I had thought I was going to do here, but I wasn’t honestly interested in anything offered.  I went outside, nodding to the bouncer as I went, and walked over to Thomas’ car. Pulling a small pad of paper and a pen out of my pocket, I jotted down a quick note indicating where I had gone and left it under his windshield wiper, hoping he would spot it.

Walking away down the street, I left the nightclub behind fairly quickly.  There were a fair number of people around, moving between bars and clubs on a Friday night.  The energy was both lively and corrosive, a split between joyous revelry and raucous desperation.  It was… life. It was also a little too crowded and noisy for my liking, and I hailed a cab, directing them back to my apartment.

I undid the wards, stepping into the deep darkness inside.  Mister did his best to knock me over as I entered, pressing himself against my shins.  The door shut behind me, and I lit the candles with a murmured spell, illuminating the small basement apartment with flickering light.  Mouse huffed happily as he came over to greet me, leaning against me in a bid for ear-scratches.

I obliged, then went to set a fire in my fireplace, sitting heavily on my couch once I had it going.

_ “Sorry that didn’t work out _ ,” I thought.

There was silence for a long moment, then a quiet voice replied.

_ I didn’t expect you to enjoy yourself there.  You didn’t need to do that. _

_ “I didn’t… why didn’t you say so?” _

Lash laughed, the sense of it subtle enough that it was difficult to catch.   _ Your mind was too loud.  You are quieter now. It’s easier to speak. _

_ “Oh.” _

We were both quiet for a few minutes, the fire crackling and flickering before me.  The warmth and sound of it was comforting.

_ Stay in tomorrow, _ Lash finally said.   _ Read.  Relax. Perhaps work on a spell.  Enjoy a day with nothing to fear, nothing hunting or hurting you.  That will help bolster your own energy, and in turn, me. _

Right.  Life-affirming activities didn’t have to be big and bold.  They could be as simple as staying at home and reading a book.  Especially if…

And there was my mistake.  Lash existed within my mind, so the state of my own mind and soul would likely be reflected in hers.  Even if something was an activity  _ she _ might like, if _ I _ didn’t enjoy it, it wouldn’t help her much.

_ “Alright, _ ” I replied.  “ _ We’ll have a day in tomorrow, just you and me.” _

She didn’t say anything, but I got the sense that she was pleased with my statement.


	4. Missing

Our day in didn’t go as planned.  I got a call from the Paranet, a child had gone missing in southern Michigan.  His mother was part of a small group of low-power practitioners who lived in the middle of what was apparently miles upon miles of corn and soybeans, interspersed with small forests sticking up out of the surrounding fields like dark towers.

The Beetle wasn’t happy with the trip, but it was only a few hours, and it managed to last long enough to get me to the small town where I had arranged to meet with the group.  A few times as I drove, I glanced over at the passenger seat, half expecting to see a tall blonde sitting next to me, making some comment or offer. Lash didn’t show, however, and the trip seemed a little more lonely for it.

Not that she wasn’t with me.  She couldn’t leave, I knew, but she seemed to be too weak to communicate in anything more than quiet moments.

I was hoping to help fix that, but it would take time.  Lash was like someone recovering from being hit by a car, with most of her bones broken, and having been knocked into a couple months-long coma.  It was a wonder she was still around at all.

I arrived in the small Michigan farming town nearly five hours after leaving my apartment.  It wasn’t hard to find a church within the town, but I wasn’t sure  _ which _ church was the one I was supposed to be meeting the group at.  There were at least three of them.

_ Four. _

_ “Lash?” _

_ There are four churches.  You want the brick one. _

That was useful.  There was, as far as I had seen, only one brick church within the town proper.  “Does it seem kind of odd to you that they want to meet us in a church?” I commented out loud, hoping Lash would reply.

She didn’t, but I did get an echo of amusement that may have been her.  Or it may have just been me being amused by my own quips.

I liked to think it was Lash.

In a town like this, though, the churches were probably the only places to hold regular meetings, unless they were held in someone’s house.  There weren’t exactly a lot of other casual social places, except for a bar or two. The thought struck me that maybe they didn’t  _ want  _ to meet me at any of their houses, where I would see exactly where they lived.  A lot of the weaker practitioners tended to be rather paranoid about what they revealed to people, for good reason.

I parked the Beetle beside a large truck, the size difference nearly comical, and went inside through a side door that was, thankfully, unlocked.  A set of steps led down into a basement, which was set up with several long tables, lined with chairs. It looked like it was all ready for a church potluck.

Three women were sitting at the end of one of the tables, looking decidedly uncomfortable.  I couldn’t tell whether they were uncomfortable with their surroundings, or with the reason why they were there.

The one at the very end of the table spotted me first, and stood, the others looking around at me with her movement.

“W… Wizard Dresden?” she asked.

I nodded, approaching but staying a short distance away from them.  No reason to make them more uncomfortable than they already were. “That’s me,” I replied.  “Odd place to ask for a meeting.”

One of the others snorted a short laugh, but the woman standing remained serious.  “Given certain… um, rumors,” she said slowly, deliberately, “concerning you, Mr. Dresden, we thought it appropriate.”

I blinked.  “Appropriate to meet in a  _ church _ ?”

For some reason, I got the sense that Lash was highly amused.

“Well,” said the woman to her left, “word is you’re involved in some pretty big stuff.  You could be an imposter; a vampire or a faerie could be pretending to be you. But you came into the church, so you’re probably human, and anything following you probably can’t come in, either.”

Right…  I didn’t bother to mention the nasties that  _ could _ enter a church.

“Ok, so I’ve passed that test.  Anything else?”

The woman standing shook her head.  “No, the sooner we start looking, the better.”

Two hours later, we were at the edge of a narrow, paved road passing between a hay field and a forest.  A boundary between civilization and the wild. I wondered briefly where this location would come out at in the Nevernever, then decided that I didn’t want to know that badly.  “This is where he was last seen?” I asked his mother, the woman who had stood to greet me back at the church.

She nodded.  “He likes to play in the field, and usually doesn’t go so far as the forest.  This time, though…” She shook her head. “I don’t know, I think something must have caught his attention.  I saw him going into the forest, went to fetch him, and couldn’t find him. And he hasn’t come back. I should just have the police look, but… I just think something  _ else  _ happened.  I think something took him.”

Her last sentence ended on a bit of a despairing note, and I looked away from the forest at her, in time to see her worried look before she shaped her expression back into careful neutrality.  I clutched the small ziplock bag in my pocket that contained a small picture of the boy and a lock of his hair. I could only imagine what it felt like to have a child missing; to not know whether they were alive or not, or whether they may be in pain somewhere, alone and crying.  It was amazing to me that she was able to compose herself so well, but perhaps that was simply what was expected of her.

“I will do my best to find your son, Mrs. Dawson,” I said solemnly, though I didn’t want to think about the odds of him being alive and well, if something had indeed abducted him.  “I’ll let you know by nightfall what I’ve found.”

She nodded, a bit of worry slipping through her expression again, then turned and joined her two friends at the SUV they had driven there, leaving me alone with the Beetle, the forest and field, and my thoughts.  They had already decided that she wasn’t going to come with me, though it had taken some convincing. Better not to come across her son’s body herself, I supposed...

_ Your thoughts are bordering on melodramatic.  Just start looking for the child already. _

I was a bit surprised to hear Lash chiming in, but glad to hear her.  It made the middle of nowhere seem a little less lonely.

I heeded her comment, though, and got started, setting up a simple tracking spell using the lock of hair I had been given.  I would save the picture for if I needed it later. No need to use up all of my resources in one go.

The spell took hold, and I set out into the forest, searching for the lost child.

*

I felt like I was going in circles.  I had been walking for nearly forty minutes, and had, somehow, not come to the end of the forest, despite it having looked rather small from the outside.

_ You are going in circles, _ Lash commented, around the same time that I decided that I had, indeed, been going in circles.

_ “Yes, thank you Captain Obvious _ ,” I replied, though I was actually glad to hear from her.  Maybe she would know why my tracking spell was leading me on an endless path through an apparently endless forest.

_ I do not, _ she replied to my unspecific thought.

Well, that was helpful.

_ I would guess, _ she continued _ , that there may be a guardian of this forest that does not take well to intruders.  You will need to appease it before it will release you. _

_ “I’m not leaving without the kid.” _

_ It looks like you aren’t leaving with him, either. _

I sighed, rubbing at my forehead as I stopped walking to take a look around.  It looked like an ordinary forest. Trees, alive and dead, standing and fallen, surrounded me, with masses of ferns and briars and other plants covering the ground around them.

“How am I supposed to find this kid if I can’t even tell what direction he’s actually in,” I mused out-loud, spinning in a slow circle.  The tracking spell hadn’t faded. In fact, it seemed as if the kid was quite close.

_ Perhaps he is. _

_ “What are you thinking?” _

Lash was silent for a long moment, and I almost thought she wasn’t going to speak again.

_ Perhaps he is working with the forest.  Stop looking for a child, look for what your spell is tracking. _

I frowned.  What kind of advice was that?  Of course the spell was tracking the kid.  Unless…

I sighed again.  I really didn’t want to play this game.  Time to take a gamble. Looking out at the forest, I stood straight and said loudly, “Alright, I give up, you win.”

A giggle came from behind me, and I spun around, looking for the source.  For a moment, I still didn’t see anything, then a boy, probably around ten or eleven, seemingly melted out of a tree.  His hair was messy and filled with bits of detritus, his skin was streaked with muddy camouflage, and his clothes were probably going to need burned, but he otherwise seemed fine.

“I’m the best at hide and seek,” he exclaimed, grinning widely.  “No one can find me in the forest.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a very nice thing to do to your  _ mom _ , now is it,” replied, leaning on my staff and eying him sharply.

His smile faltered.  “I bet she’s real mad, huh.”

“Only because she’s worried.  We should get you back home.”

The boy looked around, appearing torn.  “But I haven’t found him yet.”

“Found who?”

“My dad.”

I sighed, pieces falling into place.  “You aren’t likely to, kid, not if he doesn’t want to be found.  Is he what brought you out here in the first place?”

The kid nodded.

“Has your mom told you anything about the Fae?”

“Only that I shouldn’t make them mad, or make any deals with them.”  
“You might want to ask her a little more about them.”

*

The drive back was no more eventful than the last.  Lash had fallen silent again, tired out by conversing in the woods, though occasionally, on long, quiet stretches of highway, I could feel her listening in to my thoughts.  It was nice, not feeling quite so alone.


	5. Chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far, everyone! I'm glad that people are enjoying this little fic. It's not really supposed to be very action-packed, more of a series of vignettes, so I hope I'm not losing you with the slow burn. There is a part that comes directly after this chapter that I'll probably post in it's own fic, so that the rating of this one will stay "mature" rather than "explicit," so keep an eye out for that one if that's up your alley ;) I'll put it with this fic in a series.

“Hey Harry, what’s got you so distracted?”

I looked up from the fire at my apprentice, Molly, as she came up from my sub-basement lab.  Slightly noxious, bright blue fumes wafted up behind her, though they didn’t seem to be immediately harmful.  This time.

I hadn’t even noticed them.

Lash laughed.  It was a few weeks after the trip to Michigan, and she had been steadily gaining in strength during that time.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind.  What happened down there?”

Molly shrugged.  “Oh, you know, just… um… practice.”

I raised a brow.  “Practice burning down my apartment?”

“There was no flame!”

“This time.”

She pouted.  “You know I’m not good with potions.”

“You still need to know the basics and theory behind making them,” I chided.  “What did you try using?”

I stood and walked toward the sub-basement trapdoor, opening it back up to peer down and coughing at the fumes that came up.  I would have to let it air out. I was sure Bob would complain about it for a few days, too, not that he could actually smell anything.  He would just be disappointed that Molly hadn’t messed up badly enough to require emergency evacuation of her clothes.

This time.

“I think the silver chain might have been the problem,” Molly said as I closed the trap door again.

“Silver chain?”

_ No wonder it didn’t work _ , Lash chimed in.

“For the visual aspect.  It’s shiny and skinny, it kind of fit...  You know, you haven’t answered my question.  Why are you so distracted lately. Is it Ms. Murphy?”

“What?  No, no, there’s nothing going on, Molly.”  I sighed, internally scowling at Lash, who was apparently amused by Molly’s assumption.  “Why don’t you head home for the evening. I’ll clean up and we’ll work on the potion recipe tomorrow.”

Molly raised a brow.  “Now that’s  _ really _ suspicious.”

“Can it, Grasshopper.  Nothing’s going on.”

Molly eyed me, suspicious, but didn’t press further.  I knew it wasn’t the last I was going to hear from her, but she would find sneakier ways to try and get it out of me.

After a long moment, she started gathering her things.  “Alright, fine,” she said. “You want me out so you can get it on with your secret lover.  You don’t have to be so subtle.”

I spluttered for a moment, Lash laughing in my mind.  

Molly laughed at me as well and started out to the beetle.  Thankfully, she didn’t press further as I drove her back to her parents’ house.  I dropped her off outside, this time foregoing going inside to see Michael. I wasn’t sure what he would think if he knew Lash was still around, and wasn’t terribly keen to get a lecture about her.

Lash was quiet until we got back to my apartment.  The whole place smelled like burned metal. I cracked open the tiny basement window to try and get a bit of air flowing, and sat heavily on the couch, sighing.  Mouse came over and set his head down on my knee, eying me.

I pet him.  “I’m going to need to tell someone,” I said out loud.

I felt Lash’s hands on my shoulders, complete with the sense of her standing behind me.  “Why?” She asked. “They can’t see me, or hear me. I exist only within the confines of your mind and body.”

“Because someone’s going to get suspicious,” I replied.

Lash began kneading my shoulders, massaging out the tension.  Even being illusion, it felt good. “They will,” she agreed. “But will they understand?”

“I don’t know.  I can already see Michael’s disapproving yet concerned look if I tell him.”

“So don’t tell him,” Lash said softly.  Her hands slipped down over my shoulders to my chest, her hair falling down next to my face.  She smelled warm and clean, a hint of woodsmoke with a touch of flowers.

Mouse looked up from my lap, looking at Lash, something that seemed quite odd, considering he shouldn’t be able to see her.  Maybe it was a temple dog thing. He huffed and stood, shuffling off to my bedroom.

Huh.  What was up with him?

“You can tell people if you want to,” Lash continued, her hands tracing patterns on my chest, “but you could also keep me all to yourself.” 

Her voice was low, enticing.  Suddenly, Mouse’s leaving made sense.  “Lash…” I said.

“Hmm?”  Her lips brushed my ear, sending a shiver through my body.  It felt so real…

I covered her hands in mine, stilling them.  “You are a construct,” I said.

I knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.  A keen pang of sadness echoed from her, and she pulled back a bit, her scent fading.  “Why should that matter?” she replied.

“I…”  I started to speak, but trailed off.  Why indeed? I enjoyed Lash’s company.  I cared about her. She had changed because of me, for me, and I… could I say I loved her?  Maybe. And was she any less real for not having her own body?

Lash remained silent, waiting for my response.

“I don’t know,” I finally said.  I looked down, taking one of her hands in mine.  It felt real, warm and smooth, but only so long as I didn’t try to see through it.  But did I have to?

It suddenly occurred to me that Lash, as Lasciel’s shadow, would have kept trying to convince me, would have presented terribly tempting and rational reasons why it shouldn’t matter.  But Lash… was waiting.

“I want you to make your own choice,” she said quietly, a touch of uncertainty in her tone.

Oh, blast it all.  Maybe it mattered. Maybe I would end up mad, locked within a maze of my own mind, but for now… I lifted Lash’s hand to my lips, and she moved closer again, wrapping her arms around me from behind.  For now I honestly didn’t want it to matter.


	6. Doubts

“So, Molly tells me you’ve been seeing someone.”

I looked over at Michael, surprised at his statement, and a little irritated that Molly had said something.  “It’s not a big deal,” I said.

He shrugged.  “It’s your business, Harry, but Molly doesn’t open up to us much, so I think she’s worried about you.”

I sighed.  “It’s fine, Michael.  I’m… I’m happy. But…”

“But?”

“But I can’t introduce her to anyone.  She’s on the… spooky side of things.”

He eyed me.  “The spooky side doesn’t usually keep itself quite _that_ separate from the rest of the world.”

I shook my head.  “It’s more than that.  She’s… she doesn’t have a body.”

“You’re dating a ghost?”

“Not quite.”

“Harry.”

There was a dangerous tone to his voice, something that told me that I really should tell him what was going on, or he was going to have to take some measures he didn’t really want to.

“It’s Lash,” I said.

“You told me the shadow was destroyed.”

The dangerous tone hadn’t left his voice.

“I thought she was,” I explained.  “She took a psychic hit that should have killed me, and nearly destroyed her.  Look, I’m not lying to you about her, Michael. She has no interest in convincing me to pick up Lasciel’s coin; Lasciel would destroy her if I did.”

Michael didn’t say anything for a long moment, regarding me with a serious, steady gaze.

“Harry,” he finally said, “you saved my daughter’s life, and continue to protect her at risk to yourself.  I feel I should trust you. However,” His gaze sharpened, “Lasciel is particularly crafty, even among the Fallen.  She has _never_ failed to claim a Host.  If I suspect at any point that you’ve aligned yourself with the Denarians, I’m going to have to protect my family first.  So long as that shadow exists, you have access to the coin, and that’s a heavy temptation.”

“That’s not…” I started to say.

_Technically, he is correct,_ Lash broke in.   _I could still show you how to access Lasciel’s coin…  I would much rather not, though._

I sighed.  “Alright. You’re right.”

Michael apparently expected more of a fight from me.  He looked surprised for a moment, then turned serious again.  He nodded. “I do hope for your own sake you’re right about this,” he said.

I don’t think he was convinced yet that I was, but it meant a lot that he was willing to let me handle it, and to continue trusting me with Molly.

“I do too,” I replied, and turned to go.

Lash appeared in the passenger seat beside me on the car-ride home.  She sat looking out the window, pensive.

After a long, nearly-awkward silence, I spoke.  “Is it true that Lasciel’s never failed to claim a Host?”

Lash didn’t turn to look at me.  “It is true,” she replied. “Her track record is better than any of the Thirty, barring the ones who have kept the same Host for millenia.”

We slipped back into silence.  I wanted to say something, maybe to apologize for Michael’s suspicions, or to ask what I could do to show him that I knew Lash wasn’t going to tempt me, but I didn’t know how to word it.  Honestly, I could understand why he was so cautious. It was his _job_ to counter the evil the Denarians could do, and here I sat, a long-time friend and the mentor of his daughter, carting around a piece of a Fallen angel in my head like it was no big deal.

Maybe it was a bigger deal than I thought it was.  Sure, Lash had saved me. She had sacrificed herself for me.  But… she still had Lasciel’s knowledge. Still had the same basic personality.  Could she turn out to be a bigger liability than benefit?

“Do you think that of me?” she asked, breaking through my thoughts.

I really needed to get back into practice of shielding my thoughts from her.  “Think what of you?” I asked awkwardly.

“That I may turn on you?” she continued.  She was still looking out the window. “That I would offer you Lasciel’s coin when you’re in a moment of weakness?  That I am playing a long game, going along with a persona just to lure you into a false sense of security and strike when  your guard is down?”

“Of course not,” I said, at first vehemently, but then trailed off.  She could tell if I was lying. Was I lying? I fell silent and thought about it for a long moment.

“No,” I finally said.  “No, Lash, you’re not going to do any of that.”

She finally looked at me.  “How can you be certain?” she asked.

“Because I trust you,” I replied, “and I don’t think it’s fair to keep doubting you when everything you’ve done for me so far indicates that you’ve changed.  Hell, Lash, I know how it feels for people to think you’re a ticking time bomb of evil, and I don’t want to do that to you. I don’t care what Michael, or Sanya, or Father Forthill, or even Uriel himself thinks of you.  You’re by my side, and that’s all that matters.”

She smiled, and the sense of pensiveness lifted from where she resided in my mind.


End file.
